Calling the Bluff
by Friscogirl
Summary: Heyes has finally had it with the governor's refusal to keep his word on amnesty.


The welcome aroma of brewing coffee brought Curry awake. He sat up stiffly and stretched his sore neck, and smiled at his partner who was adding kindling to the small fire.

"Mornin'."

Heyes snorted. "This is the last of the coffee. And we're out of biscuit flour."

Curry took in his partner's sour countenance and sighed. "I'll try to catch a trout for breakfast," he offered, and reached for the fishing line they'd rigged up the previous evening.

Heyes' silence was deafening as Curry made his way to the stream a few yards from the campsite and tossed the line into the cold mountain water. As Kid watched the weak morning light splay over the water, he mulled over the reason for his partner's bad mood. True, they were low on funds. True, they'd spent another few nights sleeping on hard ground after leaving the last town suddenly when the sheriff stared at them a little to closely as they were dismounting in front of the hotel. True, the weather was getting colder as the days shortened. They should be thinking of heading to a warmer place. It's what they did every…. Curry sighed as he found his answer. It's what they did every fall. This was their third fall seeking amnesty, and it looked as far away as ever. No, it looked _farther_ away. At least during that first year they really thought it was going to happen. Now, neither was all that sure.

A fish bit, and Curry brought it swiftly out of the water. He'd try for another one before returning to the campsite.

He and Heyes had stopped talking about it like they used to. The last time, Heyes had voiced the suspicion they both felt but didn't want to swallow: the governor already had taken care of Heyes and Curry by promising amnesty. What more could he gain by actually granting it? It was a win-win for the crafty politician, and Curry knew all to well how Hannibal Heyes hated holding a losing hand.

A second bite, and Curry smiled in satisfaction as he pulled a large trout from the stream. At least they'd have a filling breakfast.

Heyes' mood was no better as he arrived with the catch. "Breakfast," he announced, trying out a smile.

Heyes looked up from where he'd been staring into the flames. "Good," he said. He pulled out his knife and reached for the fish. "You caught'em, I'll clean'em."

Curry went to do the morning necessities, and when he got back the fish were roasting on a spit over the fire. Heyes was drinking his coffee, and poured a cup for his partner when Kid sat down beside him.

"So," Curry began, since it looked like Heyes wasn't in the mood to talk, "I reckon we should find a town and stock up on some things."

Heyes snorted. "How much money you got? I figure I have maybe two dollars."

Curry reached for his jacket and found the few coins in his left pocket. "Almost a dollar," he admitted.

"Not much of a stake."

"So, we'll need to find some work."

Another snort from his disgruntled partner.

"What's eating you, Heyes?" Curry finally asked as they chewed on the cooked fish. "We've seen it much worse."

Heyes nodded. "It's just….I was goin' through my saddlebag this morning aiming to put on a fresh shirt, but I don't have one. I'm wearin' a dirty shirt; there's another dirty shirt in the bag with a hole in the sleeve. I've got a hole in my sock. My trousers have seen better days." He sighed. "Face it. We're broke. We're dirty. And we ain't got many prospects for things getting' better any time soon."

"Wash up in the stream and you'll feel better."

"Yeah. Freezin' water and cheap soap."

Curry tossed the now cold coffee onto the dirt. "We'll head to a town. Things will look up."

"That's the only way they _can_ look, Kid," Heyes said as he reached for the bar of soap in his bag and slumped off to the stream.

When they reached Pine Ridge mid-day, the prospect of finding any kind of paying job wasn't too promising. A half dozen tired buildings made up the town's only street; there was no sign of a hotel or restaurant, though there was a saloon. What there wasn't was a sheriff's office. The partners exchanged a look of relief as they dismounted outside a small barn with a "livery" painted in fading black letters on the side.

"We should probably move on," Curry said.

Heyes nodded, then looked up as a stooped over man with an unkempt graying beard came out of the building to greet them.

"Hello," Heyes greeted.

The man nodded. "Lookin' to board yer horses?"

Heyes pushed his hat off his forehead and squinted up at the sky. Dark clouds were starting to roll in, and he figured if the rain held off, they had maybe five more hours of daylight left. "How far to the next town?" he asked.

The man scratched his beard. "Maybe twenty miles. Maybe a bit more."

The partners' shared a look. Curry looked up at the clouds and frowned.

"Maybe we should stay put," he suggested. "Push on tomorrow."

Heyes sighed, taking in the depressing little town. "I suppose."

"You fellas lookin' to make a little money?" the livery man asked unexpectedly. "I got a load of hay arriving any time now, and I could use some help loading it up to the loft."

"How much will you pay?" asked Heyes.

"A dollar enough?"

Heyes took another look at the sky, shivering as a gust of cold wind blew in.

"Say, if you do the work, you can bed out in the fresh hay. Ain't nowhere else to sleep in town. And the roof don't leak. You'll be comfortable as anywhere else."

The partners exchanged a look of resignation. "Throw in some oats for the horses, and you got a deal," Curry finally said.

They'd just gotten the horses bedded down and stowed their meager belongings when as promised a wagon pulled in with a dozen bales of hay. The driver jumped down and immediately went to unlatch the back.

"Hey, Horace!" he greeted the livery man.

"Hey yourself!" Horace grunted. "I got some help today with the loadin."

"That's good, cuz a storm is about to hit and I want this unloaded before then."

Curry climbed up into the hay loft and opened the loading window. A pole stretched out with a sturdy pulley and rope, which Curry cranked down to the waiting wagon. Heyes had already climbed aboard and was ready to hook the first bale onto the rope.

The driver reached over to give him a hand, and suddenly froze. "Damnation!" he exclaimed. "Ain't you Hannibal Heyes?"

It was Heyes turn to freeze. "You've made a mistake. I'm Joshua Smith."

The driver grinned. "No you ain't. You're Hannibal Heyes. I seen you with your gang a few years back in Layton. You were hoorahing in the saloon." He shook his head. "Can't believe to find you in this nothin' town workin' for a livery."

Heyes scowled. "Can we just unload the hay?"

The driver grinned. "Sure, sure." They attached one bale and watched as Curry cranked it up in the loft. "And that's Kid Curry," he marveled. "I heard you was goin' straight. Never woulda believed it until now."

Curry lowered the rope and they hooked on a second bale. "I don't suppose you can keep your mouth shut about this?" Heyes asked him quietly.

"Sure, sure. I ain't got nothin' against ya."

They worked silently to lift the rest of the bales up into the barn. When they'd finished Heyes jumped to the ground and helped the driver latch up the wagon. Curry emerged carrying a bucket of water.

"Thought your horses might be thirsty," he said.

The driver took the buckets with a chuckle. "I never in my days," he murmured as he went to take care of his animals. Curry looked at Heyes in puzzlement.

"I'll explain later," Heyes said.

As the wagon pulled away Horace came over and handed Heyes the promised dollar. "Thanks," he grunted.

Heyes forced a smile. "Can we get food in the saloon?"

Horace nodded. "Ain't much, but yeah. I'll put some hay down for you to sleep on when you're ready."

"Thanks," Curry said, and followed his partner down the dirty street.

The rain was banging against the barn's roof as the partners lay stretched out on their blankets. Two bowls of questionable stew had only set them back fifty cents. They'd only allowed themselves one glass of beer apiece.

"We could be out in the weather," Curry said idly. Neither was able to sleep; the sun had barely gone down, but there was nothing else to do in town. No poker games, no blackjack. Nothing.

Heyes suddenly sat up and glared at his partner. "This is it. Enough. I've had it."

Curry blinked. "Whadda ya mean?"

"That wagon driver couldn't believe we'd be doing scut work in a no account town like this. Look at us! Three years almost lookin' for a break, and it never comes. Enough."

Curry sat up and leaned against the side of the stall they were sleeping in. "What are you sayin', Heyes? I'm not sure I like where this is headin'"

"Look, we've played by the rules just as the Governor asked us to. Sure, there have been some problems along the way…"

Curry snorted. "You can say that again."

"But we kept trying," Heyes plowed on. "And the governor just sits there fat and sassy and knows he has us where he wants us. Kid, I'm tired. I'm sick of lookin' like a tramp and scroungin' for lousy jobs just to keep us fed and dry."

"So? What else can we do?"

Heyes leaned towards his partner, and his eyes flashed in determination. "We can rob a bank."

Curry reached out and grabbed Heyes by the arm. "You're crazy. You wanna throw away all this hard time we've spent over the last months just because we're havin' some bad luck and you're feelin' sore and dirty?"

Heyes stared at him with the steely eyes of the outlaw leader he used to be. "Yes," he said softly. Then his mouth tugged into a smile. "But here's the plan. We're gonna rob some banks…."

"Banks! More than one bank?"

"…we're gonna rob some banks," Heyes said, ignoring his partner's outburst, "but we're not gonna keep the money."

Curry stared. "You've lost me, Heyes. Why take the risk of robbin' a bank when we don't keep what we steal?"

"Because we're gonna remind the governor of what Heyes and Curry are capable of doing, and how we can make some bankers and rich folk real angry to see their money being taken from 'em."

"And? I still don't get it."

"We take the money and we tell the governor we took it. And we'll tell him where he can pick it up again."

Curry stared. This had to be one of Heyes' most hairbrained ideas ever.

"And we'll do it a couple of times more, just to unsettle him like. "," Heyes continued. "He won't know what the heck we're up to. And then we'll tell him that unless he finally comes through with the amnesty the next bank we rob we'll take the money for ourselves. And he'll have to explain to the bankers how he's set Heyes and Curry loose on them again. I reckon he won't like that one bit."

Curry shook his head. "And if he calls your bluff? And he don't give us the amnesty?"

Heyes sighed. "Then we do what I said we'd do. We'll keep a pile of money and go somewhere he'll never find us. Mexico maybe. Heck, even Paris!" His lips twitched into another smile. "You with me on this? If you don't want to, I understand."

Curry slowly smiled. "We're partners, Heyes. I think you're crazy with this idea, but I gotta admit, I don't see any other way we're gonna be able to force the governor's hand."

They hit the bank in Johnstown without a hitch. It was an old Pierce & Hamilton make that Heyes had cracked years before.

"Like takin' candy from a baby," he grinned as they rode slowly out of town so as not to draw any attention. It was after midnight, and unlikely any of the townspeople were about to see them. Heyes might be crazy, but he wasn't careless.

They wired Lom from the next town. "Tell the Governor we robbed the Johnstown Bank. And he can find the money in the baggage holding room in Clifton."

They moved on.

The bank in Parker's Ridge opened just as easily. Heyes crouched next to it turning the dials while Kid took his usual position at the front window. They worked by moonlight; Heyes' sensitive hands and ears quickly finding the combination.

"_Lom_," they next wired. "_It was us again in Parker's Ridge. The money is in the bagging holding room in Silverton."_

In Silverton they rested up a few days, using their meager funds to build a small stake at the poker tables. A wire was waiting for them from Lom.

_"Are you two crazy? Our mutual friend is seeing red! Stop this!"_

Heyes chuckled, and grinned to his partner. "I think we've got his ear."

They pushed on to Gridley. "We'll pull one more job," Heyes said as they surveyed the town's bank. "Then we'll see if the Governor is willing to make a deal."

"Or call our bluff," Curry said worriedly.

Heyes patted him on the arm as they dismounted at the livery. "I got a good feeling about this, Kid. Let's sell the horses and take a train. I want to hit the bank in Caspar."

"Caspar! That's clear across the territory!"

"Exactly. It's a far distance from where we've been working. Less chance of people lookin' for us. Besides," he said softly, looking around to make sure there was no one in earshot, "Caspar's on the rail line. Big money in that bank. Rich folks' money. Someone's gonna be real mad when we take it."

"I don't know, Heyes," Kid said thoughtfully. "We've been awful lucky these past weeks. Our luck could change."

Heyes nodded. "I know, Kid. So we'll be extra careful. We won't take any big risks."

It took Heyes more than two hours to figure out the combination of the Territorial Bank of Caspar. When he finally pulled open the door, he was greeted by the welcome sight of stacks of high denomination bank notes.

"Biggest haul yet," he whispered to Curry as they carefully packed the bills in a canvas sack.

"Whadda ya figure?"

Heyes tied the bag shut and carefully closed the vault door. "Maybe thirty thousand dollars. Maybe more."

Curry let out a soft whistle as they made their way carefully to the door leading to the alley behind the bank. Their horses were tethered down the street, and as they made their way to them they were relieved to find no one else in town was out and about. They didn't speak until they were safely out of town and headed north to Porterville.

"I don't know, Kid," Heyes finally said with a twinkle in his eye. "If it had kept bein' this easy, we didn't need to go for the amnesty."

Curry snorted. "We been lucky, Heyes. Just you remember that."

Heyes nodded seriously. "I know, Kid. And don't worry. No more after this one. Either the governor finally gives us what we want….or we keep the money. Either way, it's over." Then his eyes twinkled again. "But say, hasn't this been fun?"

They were taking no chances when they rode up to Lom's small house on the outskirts of town. They waited until nightfall, until they had seen Lom pull in and unsaddle his horse in the small lean-to behind the house. A light was lit in the kitchen.

"Time to eat," Curry said to Heyes with a grin.

The door was unlocked, as they knew it would be from past visits. Lom looked up from where he was stirring something on the stove, took in their unholstered weapons, and pushed the pan off the flame.

"What the hell are you two up to?" he asked testily.

Heyes kept his gun out, not sure if Lom had been ordered to take them in this time. He tossed the canvas sack onto the supper table. "Thirty thousand dollars from the Caspar Bank."

"And what am I supposed to do with this?" Lom's eyes were angry.

Curry reached over and took Lom's handgun from where he'd looped his gunbelt over a chair. "Let's all just take it easy, Lom, and we'll explain."

"This better be good," Lom grumbled. Then a reluctant smile crossed his lips. "You sure have the governor in a tizzy," he admitted. He nodded to the pot of stew. "You two hungry? I'm sure your story will settle better on a full stomach."

As they chewed the tasty beef stew, Heyes filled Lom in on the plan. When he'd finished, Lom sat and shook his head. "If that ain't the craziest bluff I ever heard."

Heyes fingered his water glass before meeting Lom's eyes. "It isn't a bluff, Lom. If we don't get amnesty, the Caspar Bank doesn't get this money back. Simple as that."

"We just can't keep goin' on like we have been," Curry added. "It's been almost three years. We've more than kept our word to the governor."

Lom sighed, and took their empty plates from the table. "I assume you want me to communicate all this?" Heyes and Curry nodded.

"I'll take the train to Cheyenne in the morning."

Heyes stood up and handed Lom his gun back. "Meanwhile, we're gonna disappear," he said. "If the governor still won't play, we don't want to be easily found."

"Then how are you gonna know what he says?"

"Have him tell some reporters. If we get amnesty, I figure it will be pretty big news. We'll look for it in a newspaper."

Curry picked up the money. "Meanwhile, we'll keep this good and safe. When we get the amnesty, we'll see the bank gets its money back."

"And if you don't?"

Heyes pulled his hat down over his forehead. "Then I'm afraid we won't see each other again."

They opened the door and went out into the night.

They took their time riding to Denver, staying to the back roads and staying out of sight. The weather had gotten colder and it was uncomfortable sleeping with nothing but a small campfire for warmth, but they cheered themselves with the knowledge that either way the governor decided, they wouldn't be living rough for much longer.

It was two weeks later when they dismounted outside the offices of the _Denver Post._ The paper's front pages were posted in the window. Heyes saw the headline, and turned to the kid with a grin.

_Notorious Outlaws Granted Amnesty! End of the Line for Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry!_

Heyes threw his arm around his partner's shoulders. "We did it, Kid!" he said softly.

Curry shook his head in amazement. "How about that! He didn't call your bluff!"

Heyes winked. "I've always been a pretty good poker player, Kid." He stepped over to the canvas bag hanging from his saddle horn. "It's really too bad we have to give this back, dontcha think?"

Curry looked at him in disbelief. "Heyes!"

His partner grinned.


End file.
